Kai was 21 and he was already considered as the best dancer of the century. All the stages wanted him, and no star in the dark sky could shine more than him. He was the ultimate superstar, and no one reached what he did in such a young age. He was called the Dancing Muse, and no one could take that from him.

Everyone loved him and he loved that, and so, he kept practicing, making himself even better.

He was constantly on diet, and he never left the practice room before three in the morning. His life was spinning between that, his performances and the interviews. He was voted the man the most wanted by women from all ages, especially noonas. His life was all what he wanted, and he never thought that it would end. Never. Not when he was working hard to keep it.

He loved the spotlights too much to let anything get him down.

But no one climbs so high and stays there forever.

And no one knows when cupid decides to shoot them.

He was hiding under dark glasses, a big hat and thick scarf, and sitting in his favorite spot behind the window of his favorite café sipping on his espresso, and watching people getting busy with their lives. That was what he loves to do the most in his spare time other than dancing. He loved watching the others, and wondering like which one of them he would have been if dance didn’t take this great place in his existence.

He was still looking when he spotted a girl on the other side of the street. She was wearing a navy blue dress and high heel boots, her hair was long and wavy, falling on her shoulders and the chocolate brown color was so beautiful under the sun. In her right hand, she was holding a violin suitcase. She stopped in front of the coffee shop, opened the suitcase and took her violin out and started to play there in public. The violin was lovingly put on her left collarbone, her chin resting on the top of it as she was playing. He couldn’t hear the music because of the noise inside the coffee shop but the sight was so interesting in itself, that look of a beautiful girl playing in the streets with her suitcase open in front of her to collect tips made him abandon his half-filled cup of coffee and step outside to get a glimpse of the sound that came from such an attracting sight. As he was outside, the sweet sound of the violin sneakily took the place of every thought that was lingering in his head. It was like a flower blooming after a long cold rainy winter, that serenade guided him effortlessly to the other side of the road, he was soon sent to another world where all his senses were awakened and his heartbeat went from crazy to crazier. He was so lost in the passion that hunted every note coming from the natural movement of the arm of the girl. He was for the first time lost in a passion that wasn’t his.

He didn’t know how much he stayed there listening to her playing, and lost in her beautiful feature, but he was obliged to wake up when the song ended and the girl walked away. He didn’t know what to do. Should he follow her? He wanted to follow her actually, something inside him was telling him to do so, but his reason had to kick right at that moment and show him how absurd that idea was. He kept looking at her silhouette until she disappeared around the corner of a street then came back to what he had to do.

Since that day, the girl didn’t let him once sleep in peace, nor live as he used to, and the need to see her again made him almost go insane.

After two days living in a hell that he didn’t ask for, he decided to go back to the coffee shop at the same time and wait for her to come again. He went there for four days consecutive, and not once did she appear. On the fifth day, he debated on going or just forgetting this whole absurd story, and just when he was about to abandon the idea, he just couldn’t, and the urge to go grew bigger.

He went there; sat at the same spot as the one he took for the whole week, put his earphones on and ordered the same drink, then stared outside.

Thirty minutes passed without a sign of her, and he started telling himself that it wasn’t a good idea, and he was wasting time he could use in practice, but he still couldn’t bring himself to leave. He waited for another hour, then treated himself of a freak and left the coffee shop. Just when he was about to get in his car he saw her coming. The same long wavy brown hair, same high heel boots, but a black dress this time. The violin suitcase was in her hand, and she stopped in the same spot as the first time, and started to play.

He didn’t know how he went out of his car, and stood right in front of her, he didn’t know when he lost himself to her again, but he just did, as effortlessly as the first time.
His heart was beating fast and he felt himself fall in love like from a high cliff.
Was it with the music, was it with her, he just didn’t know.

When it came to her, he never knew a thing.

The only thing he knew was that she was introducing him to a world he never knew.
No one knew the music like he did. He was one to feel it run in his veins, he could make the music turn to moves, the music and him were always one, and knowing that there was a side of it that he didn’t reach and was introduced to him by a girl playing on the street made him feel different.

Just like the first time, he didn’t know when everything stopped, when he was himself again and not some note floating in the hidden side of the universe. And this time, he didn’t know when the girl left either. He just woke up from this trance to find himself alone. She evaporated. And emptiness took place in his being.

Going to that café on that day in that hour became his habit. Listening to that sweet voice of eloquent splendor became his addiction, and the dose she was giving each time was increasing that he started to fear dying of an overdose. He was addicted to the violin and to the girl with the violin. He just couldn’t understand himself.

He never was like that. He was the ultimate playboy since always. He just came to be more discreet about it when he became famous. He was the object of obsession for everyone, and he never experienced being obsessed, and it was driving him crazy.
In the numerous times he stayed for God knows how long in front of her listening to her music, not once did he see her looking in his direction, he never had an eye contact with her, he never saw what was hidden inside her eyes, and that’s another thing that made him lose his mind.

Does she even know that he was there?

One day he decided that he will talk to her, that he will make his presence known and that he will ask to know her better. And so, this time he didn’t wait for her to come from the other side of the street on his usual place in the coffee shop, but he stood right there where he did each time the music started to play. He stood there and waited for her to come.

She came, and she stopped at the same spot and started to open her suitcase, not sparing him a glimpse, as if he was invisible, and that drove him crazy. Wait, he thought, was she blind?

And he decided to talk.

“Hey!” he said with a voice full of confidence and waited for her answer.

She didn’t raise her head, she didn’t look at him, and she kept being busy with her suitcase.

He wanted to say something more, drive her attention to him for once rather than her violin, but he couldn’t talk anymore, and like each time, she played her instrument and he stayed there.

The only difference is that for the first time, he didn’t drown in the music but in her. At that right moment he knew that he already fell in love with her, and he fell hard. He never believed in love in first sight, but it was stroking him like a lightening. He was oh, so baked.

-

Two months went by like the wind, and every day she would play her violin and he would be there to listen and more likely to study her. No matter how his schedule would be, not matter in which country he was, he would be there; because love made him lose every bit of logic that dance let him.

The superstar was still the superstar. And the climb he was taking was taking him even higher, since the feeling in his heart made his moves even more attaching. People just went head over heels on the new image of him. The muse in love.

Today was another day of those where he would meet the girl that made his heart flutter.
He still didn’t know her name, never heard her voice, never looked at her straight in the eyes, but he was sinking even deeper in his feelings.

He just arrived from Japan and he was extremely tired, but knowing what was waiting for him, he felt happy.

He just parked his car and was stepping out when he saw her coming from the side he was in. That wasn’t the way she usually came from but that wasn’t a big deal. Just when he was locking the car he heard the honk of a trunk. He raised his head to see the girl crossing the street and the trunk coming straight at her. She didn’t budge and she didn’t seem to hear it. In the speed of light, he run to her, and pushed her aside, when he sighed relief that she was safe, all he could see was white.

-

2 days later, he woke up at the beep of the medical apparatus, and the bright light that was hugging the white room. It took him a while to adjust to it.

He didn’t understand why he was there, why the oxygen mask was disturbingly put on his face, and why everything was so white. Then it came at him that someone was holding his hand. The other hands that were enclosing his were small, soft and warm. He loved the contact.

He blinked few times then heard the sound of a girl calling doctors and the hands let go of his. He tried to get up, but he felt dizzy and strong hands kept him in place.

“JongIn-shi, stay put. You aren’t fine yet and you need rest.” A man said.

He looked toward him, and he was wearing a white blouse. As white as the ceiling. Next to him were two nurses and right at the back was standing a girl. THAT girl. And his memory came back to him. He was trying to save her life, and end up under the wheels of the trunk, but he couldn’t help his smile from forming on his face. She cared enough to be there, and she was safe and sound. Relief washed over him, and he relaxed.

He nodded to the doctor. And the doctor smiled at him.

He looked at the girl again, and she was looking at him. It was the first time they had an eye contact, and all he could tell himself is that she was beautiful he would die.

After making sure everything was the way it should be, the doctor and the nurses left the room.

He was now alone with his beautiful stranger. He wanted to take off the oxygen mask to talk with her but she stopped him.

“No you shouldn’t. Just rest for now we will talk later”

He finally heard her voice over the violin’s, and to him, this music was even greater. He wanted to argue, but she insisted that he ended up nodding.

She sat again in the chair beside the bed and took his hand in hers, and that couldn’t make him happier, then he got afraid that the apparatus would show the raise of his heartbeat, and to his relief it didn’t.

Soon he fell asleep, but this time not on the light of a trunk but to the beautiful face of the one he loved.

He woke up the next day and found himself alone in that same hospital room. The girl wasn’t anywhere to be seen, and with all the apparatus connected to his body he could barely sit up.

He took off the oxygen mask, and looked at his covered body. The first thing he did was to get rid of the cover and try to get up, but as he did so, a wave of pain hit his body. It was so agonizing and hideous to bear, and his whole body felt raw. He almost screamed at how much it was excruciating. He grabbed at the sheets tightly; making his best to stifle that cry of pain, but one tear escaped his eye and rolled down his cheek. He kept like that for not longer than seconds, but it looked like hours. When it finally faded away, his eyes darted toward the source of it to be shocked from the sight. His leg was messed up, it was violet and the bandage wasn’t covering much of the awfulness that his leg became.

The shock took the best out of him. He stayed frozen in his place not knowing what to do, to decide to go back to sleep.

For the first time since before his debut, he cried himself to sleep.

Three hours later, he was woken up by the voice of the doctor. He was smiling at him, but he didn’t want him to, not when he was sickly laying in here, and nothing giving him a reason to smile back. He sat up, and kept looking at the doctor with a big frown, and watched as the smile of the other faded away to let place to worry.

“JongIn-shi? How are you feeling today?” he asked with the same professional and impersonal tone all the doctors use.

“Bad?” he answered with an icy voice that took the other aback. “What happened to my leg?”

The doctor looked at the floor as if he was seeing it for the first time, debating with himself if he should tell him the truth or not yet. He raised his eyes to lock his look with the other man and seeing the way he needed to know made him take his decision.

“Well, it is kind of hard news on you. But I want you to stay calm. I know it is cruel to be asking this, but if you freak out, your state will decrease.”

The worry in JongIn grew hearing the words the other was telling him, but he needed to know, so he nodded and waited for him to explain.

“JongIn-shi, during the accident your leg was badly hit, we tried to fix it during the surgery but to no avail. Your Achilles tendon was badly injured and I’m afraid it will take you a long time to walk normally, and it won’t be possible to dance anymore.”

-

After two weeks spent in the hospital, he was finally sent home.
If one can talk about sadness, he was drowning in it until the tip of his head. Everything abandoned him.

Dancing who was the only thing to make him feel alive and to bring him happiness, became past. It just disappeared like it was a beautiful dream and he just woke up from it. He woke up to a dark world where he couldn’t fit.

His injury didn’t hurt him only, but all the people who loved him, all the fans, and those who were expecting too much from him. Those who saw in him the Dancing Muse. Everyone cried the disappearance of such a beautiful talent.

He had to see his face in the news quite often, he would see his picture in the newspaper and magazines, and for the first time he hated it, because this time it wasn’t to tell the world about his new dance, but to officially declare his end.

He was sitting on his bed and looking at the window. His head was already tired of thinking of what to do with his life now, and another thought started hunting him once again.

The girl with the violin.

He didn’t see her ever again since the day she held his hand, and looked at him straight in the eyes, and that intrigued him.

He saved her life, so he expected her to come every day to see him, until she was sure he was fine. And he was even more disappointed when he knew that she knew what became of him, since he was everywhere in the news. Everyone knew, and she wasn’t the exception.

He waited for a sign of her, he waited for her to come to his door and knock on it, since he let his address in the hospital for her, but she never came. Not in a week, nor in a year. And so he decided that no matter how much her music hunted his night dreams, he will just ignore her existence.

-

Due to the state of his leg, JongIn found himself on the obligation of changing houses. This one was too big, and just the easy fact of going from his room to the kitchen was making his life hell. He needed a smaller one where everything would be at his sight, and so he did.

-

He had earned enough money from his performances during those short three years to make him live his whole life without needing to move from his place, but the emptiness that was taking over his life, was starting to get over his mind sanity too, he needed to do something occupy himself from his heartbreaking souvenirs. And so, he decided to become a writer. He doesn’t know why he wanted to do that, but it just felt right when he opened his laptop and started typing the first words.

-

JongIn locked himself inside his new apartment, and he decided that it was definitive. He wasn’t going to leave it, until he was a dead body. He got everything delivered, a maid who would come twice a week to stock him food and clean, and he would send what he wrote via email.

His life became just that.

He did everything to detach himself from every aching memory, but one memory; just one wouldn’t let him be. That sound of the violin that would play in his head every time he drifted to sleep and that eye contact with the girl who played it so gracefully it made him travel in time.

He did everything to forget, and karma did everything to make him remember.

-

Ten year passed.

JongIn was 31 now, and he was no longer the world wild famous dancer, but a best seller writer. He only had to write that one book to gain his famousness once more. And to be honest, if it wasn’t for those heart aching dreams, he would have never done it. He put everything it evoked and roused in him in words as beautiful as the melody that lived in his souvenirs, and everyone fell in love with it.

His life was a humdrum. He would wake up, take a bath, watch the news, surf on the net, then try to write something interesting, and nothing would come up, so he goes to fetch something to eat in the fridge. He eats and go back once again to his computer to try and write, and depending on the days, the words would either start to rain on him pulling him into the night, or he would spend the rest of his day looking at the blank page before going to sleep.

Today was one of these days where the words hated him, and he couldn’t do anything about it. He kept looking at the white screen in front of him, and the blinking curser was starting to drive him crazy. Why was his brain empty? It was frustrating him to a point he would tear his hair. It was already three hours since he sat in front of his laptop. He turned it off and was going to sleep when someone knocked at his door.

It was weird, no one visited him. Was it one of those crazy interviewers again? He surely made it known that he wasn’t interested in any. Or was it the maid? She may have forgotten something again.

He walked to the door, now his leg almost healed, and opened it.

No one was there.

He took a look in the corridor, he looked right and left in case someone was there, but it was empty. He was about to close the door when he saw a white envelope sitting in the floor.

He didn’t hesitate and took it then closed the door. As he was walking toward the bedroom, he inspected it. No name of a sender was on it, the only thing written was “Kim JongIn”.

At least he was sure it was written to him.

And he opened it.

“Dear Kim JongIn,

This is a late thanking letter.
I am the girl who, ten years ago was crossing the street and almost died because she was deaf from birth, if you didn’t push her and took the hit in her place. I am the girl who played violin each Thursday in front of the same coffee shop to get tips for the charity house, and to whom you listened each time, without a fail. I am the girl whose music you loved and got lost to. I am the girl you saved and who didn’t get to thank you for it. I am the girl who wanted to come to the hospital each day and hold your hand like I did the first day but who didn’t because she couldn’t. I am the girl who drowned into your eyes when you first opened your eyes on that hospital bed and looked straight at her eyes. I am the girl who fell for every one of your dance moves even before meeting you. I am the girl who your dancing showed the music in another dimension and made her heart race quicken just as yours did when hearing her music. I am the girl in your book even if she doesn’t deserve to be in it. I am the girl who loved you for ten years but couldn’t come to you and say a simple thank you for saving my life, and sorry for ruining yours. I am the girl who had to wait ten years to finally have the possibility to do it because her dad took her away to another country, away from that entire story, and to make her erase the guilt from her soul, I am the girl who made you wait ten years to get your thanks and apology. I am the girl who wanted to do it in person, but coward when she stepped in front of your door.
I am the girl who wants to meet you for the last time and say it with her own words if you want her to.
I am the girl who will play the violin once again at that same spot in front of that same coffee shop in that same time on that same day.
I am the girl who hopes that the man who came each time to listen to her music will come for one last time to listen once more.
The girl who plays violin.”

The shock was painting a priceless expression on JongIn.

That was the last thing on the world he was waiting for on a day as boring and usual as this one.

He didn’t think that this would ever happen even less in a day where his page was blank.

He never thought that his heart would beat as hard as this ever again.

He never thought that he would still be in love with that same girl even after ten years.

Tears came falling from his eyes like a torrent. He didn’t know why he was crying, but he did, because those tears felt right, and he knew he was going to listen to the melody that hunted his dreams for so long once more.

-

He took his crutch and stepped outside his house for the first time since ten years.

Nervousness was eating him, but happiness was overwhelming. He instantly forgot that he spent ten years of his life agonizing over that same girl. He forgot the pain she caused him, the tears that she tainted him with, the only thing he thought of was her and only her.

Soon he was sitting in the same coffee the younger him used to sit in. And like ten years ago, he saw the girl now a woman walk from the same side and stop at the same spot. She took out her violin from the suitcase and started to play.


He wanted to run to where she was and let the music consume him, but he wasn’t totally healed yet, and the slow walk was a necessity. Torturous was the only thing he could describe it, but the moment the sweet notes invaded his system, all he could feel was the beauty of the world. Her beauty.

He stopped where he used to stand. And looked at her play.

He missed their moment so much.

He wanted to hug her hard and never let go. But he stayed there and listened.

And like every time he didn’t know when everything ended, but for this time, she was still there, the violin in her hand and her eyes totally on him and only him.

Oh how much he waited this moment to come.

He didn’t know when the words slipped his mouth but they seemed right.

“I missed you.”

She smiled a shy smile before answering him.

“I’m sorry”

He smiled back at her.

“Thank you”

He looked at her still smiling face, and talked again.

“Thank you”

She looked at him in astonishment not understanding why he was saying those words.

“Thank you for coming back, even if it is ten years late.”

A tear slipped from his eye, and from hers.

He made one step toward her, and she made one toward him too. And one more, and another, and she was almost in his embrace.

He grasped her hand, and held her cheek with the other one letting his crutch fall to the ground.He stared deep into his eyes, suddenly seeing all what he really ever wanted. He leaned closer and whispered "I love you" then he kissed her, pouring in it every moment of hurt, of longing, of love and of desperation he ever felt in those ten years.

End.

Notes

I bet you want to hit me for what I did to JongIn ... But meh, he just seemed too perfect for the story :3
At any case, I hope you enjoyed it lovelies. Kissouuuux :*